


in want of a healer

by Khiroptera



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke (Dragon Age), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Purple Hawke, fenris being fenris and disliking anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiroptera/pseuds/Khiroptera
Summary: Hawke is wounded after a battle, and Fenris takes care of them.A short drabble for my brother.





	in want of a healer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penguin_prince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguin_prince/gifts).



“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” Hawke asked, though the smirk and batting of their eyelashes implied they knew very well _what_.

Hawke sat upright on their bed, back against the headboard, while Fenris sat nearby, bowl of water and cloth in hand. Aveline had deposited them there while Varric sent for Anders’s help. Meanwhile, the most Fenris could do was clean the wound in preparation. He'd taken care of himself before, yet now that he had Hawke here, limp and bloodied across their chest and arm, he no longer trusted himself. He tried for gentle, tried not to pull at the skin too much in fear of worsening their injury. Hawke, credit to them, showed no signs of pain apart from what they couldn't control.

“Most sane people understand that you do not _charge_ a qunari,” Fenris replied. Hawke gasped.

“Why, Fenris,” they said, lifting a hand to the unmarred half of their chest. “Have I given you the impression that I was _sane_?”

Fenris chuckled. “My mistake, then.”

“No, no, the mistake is mine. I should’ve been forthright with you. The truth is, I have absolutely _no_ idea what I’m doing at any given moment.” They attempted an exaggerated gesture with their arm, but winced instead, a small grunt coming through clenched teeth. An icy spike shot through Fenris's chest, and he gently pulled the offending arm back down to Hawke's side, his fingers lingering there before returning to his work.

Fenris wrung out the blood-soaked cloth. The water was tinted deep red; he’d have to call on Bodahn to fetch a fresh bowl, and why wasn't Varric back yet? Fenris mumbled under his breath, gaze downturned.

Hawke heard anyway. “Hmm? What was that?”

His voice was small, a growl amidst the crackling flames of the fireplace. “You should have taken _him_.”

That mage, Anders, much as he disgusted Fenris with his hypocrisy and the singular fact that he was an uncontrollable _abomination_ , so interested in power and freedom and not at all interested in what that costs people like Fenris, the slaves and the _soporati_ , the people who can’t physically defend themselves against these terrifying beings—for all that Fenris despised him, he also knew that had Anders been there, Hawke would not have stumbled home in the arms of their friends, skin pale for lack of blood. Aveline was already set to come along, and the woman was skilled with her shield. They didn't need Fenris, but Hawke took him anyway. Anders could have helped them immediately, but instead Hawke laid in their room, dying—

“Fenris,” they said, and he looked up at them, his hair falling into his eyes. “I wanted _you_.”

A heavy pause, words left unsaid floating between them, before Hawke continued. “And besides, Anders has a clinic to run. It’d be almost _immoral_ to take him with me all the time.”

Fenris hummed noncommittally (he wasn't about to anger Hawke by suggesting that the clinic find someone more reputable), and pressed the red-tinged linen cloth to Hawke’s collar. The bleeding had died down, though Hawke's skin was still clammy and pale. What was taking that mage _so long?_

“This is quite the reversal, isn’t it?” Hawke said.

“What is?”

Hawke smiled, though it quickly became a grimace. “You taking care of me.”

Sighing, Fenris pulled the cloth away. The wound was visible once the blood was wiped off, a long sweeping gash from the round of their shoulder to near Hawke’s heart. Fenris felt a tightening in his chest—a pain he imagined was like those he inflicted with his own hands, gripped around the hearts of their enemies.

He swallowed, and looked into Hawke’s eyes, at the softness there. The mortality.

“ _Someone_ has to.”


End file.
